Billionaire Ex~Wife Return For Revenge

Danielle's POV

If looks could kill, the clock above the TV would have burned to death with how intense my glare is. You'd think it was the cause of the scowl on my face, but it wasn't.

This morning, when I woke up, the other side of the bed was cold and looked like no one slept in it through the night. I know I should not have expected any less, but it doesn't hurt to hope, does it?

Zeke and I have been married for three years as of today, an arranged marriage. My parents and his parents decided that their children being together would solidify their alliance even more. I was 22- freshly out of college and threatened with my inheritance if I didn't agree, Zeke was 25, and his parents probably had leverage over him, too.

Initially, I had fought tooth and nail, even tried to escape at a point, but none of my attempts had the effects I wished they would. So, at last, I accepted my fate and got married to him.

We "courted" for six months so the media wouldn't suspect anything before finally getting married. Everything was planned, from the restaurant we ate to the clothes I wore to the ring that he slipped into my fingers, and even to the paparazzi that were hired.

And my wedding? The talk of the town. If I had been getting married under different circumstances, it would have been my dream wedding. But, walking down that aisle with my father and staring straight ahead into Zeke's emotionless eyes was all the confirmation I needed to finally realise that my life had changed from that moment onwards.

Zeke Hernadéz, standing at 6'1, definitely is a fine man. His eyes are brown, his hair a dirty shade of brown and his face without spots. So it was no shock that I was attracted to him, at the very least, and tried to play the good wife. But my efforts have been met with zero enthusiasm.

On our first anniversary, I cooked a full meal, lit scented candles, dressed up, and waited for him. I had been giddy with excitement and was bouncing around the house the whole day. Well, until it was late into the night and I realised that he wasn't coming. Notwithstanding, I waited till the last of the candles burned out before leaving for my room. He didn't return until the next evening, and even then, he didn't make mention of it or even tried to give an excuse as to why he wasn't there.

I should have known to stop, but I didn't. On our second anniversary, I tried again. Cooked for him, bought him a gift, and waited again. As expected, he was not there, and his gift still lay in the top drawer till today, unopened.

And now, the third.

Candles littered the floor from the doorway to the dining area where petals of black roses were scattered on the table. The area was filled with the scent of curry chicken and apple pie that I had made earlier. His favourites. When I was done, I freshened up and went back into the living room to wait.

Again, I was dressed up. Nothing too much, though. My dress was black with a low hanging V- neck, and I had straightened my hair earlier before coming down. I didn't want to look desperate in case he didn't show up again, nor did I want it to seem like I didn't try at all, in case he did show up.

Presently, though, it did not look promising.

I stood from the couch and went to the window, my fingers slightly parting the curtains. I looked towards the driveway, hoping to see the familiar grey SUV drive into the compound.

I looked towards the clock again. It reads 7:23 presently, which means I have been waiting for an hour plus. Normally, he'd come home at 6 pm every day, so I tried to finish all I had to do before then.

I closed the curtain and sat on one of the dining chairs.

I held my phone tightly in my hands, debating whether to call him or not. Releasing a shaky breath, I tapped on his contact, and watched it ring a few times before it went to voicemail.

I called again. And again. Nothing. My calls were not returned, neither did i get a text. It went to voicemail exam time until I gave up trying altogether.

I tried to find excuses for him. Maybe he was stuck in traffic or worse, a meeting. Maybe he was even driving home recently, or he was trying to pick out the perfect anniversary gift. Maybe.. maybe.. maybe I was just trying to soothe my broken heart.

I walked into the kitchen and started wiping down the already clean counter, dusted off invisible dust, and rearranged the clean dishes. I was trying to get my mind off another failed attempt at a romantic anniversary night. The night had not ended yet as it was just 9 pm, but deep down, I knew this night would end just like the others.

I'd be left more broken than before and the hole in my heart more hollow.

After I had gathered myself together a little bit, I walked back into the loving room, my gaze wandering to the clock again.

8:22.

There was still no sign of Zeke.

No sign of his car.

No texts, or calls.

Nothing.

My lips quivered, and my eyes watered. But, I would not cry. Not this time. If by the time I am ready to go to bed and he isn't here, I would eat my dinner alone, take off my dress I wore and go to bed.

Just as I was about to dish my food and sit to eat, the screeching of tires made me pause and freeze in my steps. My eyes widened slightly, and my breath caught in my throat.

Almost immediately, I composed myself and ran a hand over my dress, smoothing it. I ran my hands through my hair, trying to get them looking presentable at the least.

I looked towards the clock again. 8:52.

He came.

He was here.

My thoughts were right after all.

Maybe he was indeed stuck in traffic or in a meeting.

None of that mattered now as I rushed towards the door, my back straightened and I stood there with a smile on my face, and my hands intertwined waiting for him to come in.

There was no mistaking the soft purr of his engines, and the screeching of his tires. Zeke has always been a bit of a reckless driver.

I stepped back a bit as the doors opened and he walked into the house.

"Hey, wel..."

The reason for the pause in my words was standing right behind Zeke with a suspicious smile on her lips.

"Not to state the obvious or anything, this looks like a scene from one of those cheesy books you read, Dani". She sneered mockingly.

Sarah is my step-sister and our relationship is just as you are thinking.

Sarah is the stereotype for the "perfect" girlfriend. She has a huge following on Instagram. In simpler terms, an influencer. Her face was always full of makeup, her botox lips and cheeks, and her natural blonde curls.

"What is she doing here? What are you doing here?"

Zeke placed his hand on her lower back and steered her into the house fully, shutting the door behind them.

"You are still up". He stated the obvious, not once acknowledging my efforts. "She needs a place to stay for the night, and what's all this?"

My heart dropped in my chest. "It's our anniversary".

"Oh, is it?"

The silence was defeaning. Sarah rocked slightly on her feet before clearing her throat.

"I'll be waiting in the room, Zeke".

She rubbed her hands on his shoulders, and pushed her elbows into my side.

"You could not call to inform me that she'd be staying overnight? Didn't you see my calls?"

His face was stern and he looked like someone that was in discomfort.

"I didn't think it'll be a problem".

"And our anniversary?"

"I forgot".

"You forgot? Last year? Three years ago?"

"I am not in the mood for this tonight. I had a long day at work and would like to retire to bed now. Hm?"

He stepped around me and walked up the stairs.

I stood there, my lips trembling and my fingers curled into Mt palms tightly.